I thought Anna and Don Walker* had the kind of marriage I wanted – maybe they did at the time. That was 15 years ago, when I was in college. Back then, Anna and Don were the kind of couple you never dreamed would divorce. They were steady, salt-of-the-earth folks who effortlessly served others and gave the impression that they really liked each other.
It was April of 2002. I was single, living alone, and had no prospect of marriage in sight (nor would I for several years). But for some reason, I felt compelled to pick up my journal and write a prayer for my future wife. I prayed that if she was going through a hard time or making any bad decisions that God would give her the grace to move on and forgive herself. It seemed like the right thing to pray at that moment.
“Daddy!” my two-year-old daughter yelled from her bed last Friday morning after she woke up. I hadn’t gotten to see her the day before, so I was looking forward to spending time with her before heading to work. I went into her room and picked her up, expecting her to squirm around and ask for her favorite stuffed animal. Instead, she wrapped her arms around my neck and put her head on my shoulder.
All I wanted to do was vote in peace. Not this Election Day. It all started when my wife went to the bathroom while I waited in line with a few hundred other people to vote. The poll worker came out and appeared to split the line in two – or something – I couldn’t tell, because I was just trying to keep an eye on my two daughters who were playing on the lawn.
I think it’s childish, unkind, and pathetic for a man to raise his voice at his wife, but last week, in a moment of weakness, I let her (and myself) down. And in that ugly moment, God was there. My wife was very sick, so I had spent most of the day taking care of our daughters, ages one and two. I had gotten them dressed, made them breakfast and lunch, played with them, put them down for naps, played with them some more, and generally felt upbeat about it the whole time, despite the messy house.
My wife says our first date went well, despite the fact that I nervously interviewed her like I was Barbara Walters. On the other hand, our second date didn’t go so well because – um, how do I say this – after the concert I took her to a nice, little restaurant called – deep breath – okay, here I go – don’t-judge-me! – McDonald’s – yes, McDonald’s (I promise, there is a somewhat reasonable explanation).
It’s 9:35 on Monday night, and tomorrow morning, I’m supposed to publish my next post on Spiritual Klutz. It’s already finished – a witty, sarcastic piece about a peculiar experience my wife and I recently had with a group of Christians we met for the first time.
Four years ago, you came down the aisle to meet me with a calm, glowing, otherworldly confidence. And although I didn’t know what I was getting into, I knew it was good – very good. I was right.
The other day, my wife and I were in the backyard with Daniela, our 22-month-old daughter, who was playing with a beach ball. My wife ran a few steps beyond her and said, “Come on, Daniela. Run!”
“Make sure and record as many of your child’s moments as you can, especially in the early years,” said my coworker. “You’d be surprised how quickly she will change.” I thought it was good advice, but I didn’t want to break out the video camera every time my daughter said a new word. So instead, I decided to get a journal and – every day – write one thing my daughter did and one thing my wife did.
My wife was racked with pain, desperate to deliver our baby, and on the verge of her last push. My pulse raced, my breath was shallow, and I was both terrified and elated. “I want to catch the baby,” I said to the doctor, reminding him, for the third time, of what we had discussed five weeks ago at my wife’s appointment.
Last Saturday, my 18-month old daughter was the flower girl in her cousin’s wedding. Daniela just learned to walk a month ago, so we questioned whether she would make it down the lengthy, red-carpeted aisle.
Sometimes you run across a story that demonstrates God’s love in a way that a theological explanation never could. Today, I’m featuring one of those stories from guest writer Evan Bell. If God’s been nudging you to take a risk, to give more than you thought you had to give – read this article. You may just walk away with the courage to follow Him down a path that will change your life forever.
Recently, my wife and I decided to have a weekend of focused prayer in our home, to lay aside our worldly cares and set our minds on Christ. Things did not go as planned. The whole weekend, my one-year-old daughter was miserably upset, due to a bad cold, which left her with an endless fountain of snot running down her face. And though she was hungry, she was too miserable to eat, which drove her to a wailing, screaming fit.
Cory, one of my happily married friends, was annoyed with some of his single, male buddies. “Joshua, it’s so irritating,” he said. “I suggest a woman to them, but they say ‘she’s not attractive enough,’ or she’s lacking in some other area. And here’s the crazy part: In every case — without exception — the woman is way out of their league.”
Joshua Rogers 